My Little Brony
by Eve-the-Charlotte
Summary: Basically a "Bucky comes back seemingly from the dead story" plus sexiness and funnies. M for sexiness and swearing.


_My Little Brony _by _Eve-the-Charlotte_

Pairings: Pre-slash Tony/Bruce (to be hereby known as Brony, for serious); Steve/Bucky; hinted Thor/Loki and Phil/Clint.

Disclaimer: The disclaimer that said I don't own the Avengers or My Little Pony was crushed by Thor's hammer.

Warnings: Fix-it universe, some comic spoilers for Winter Soldier, swearing (headcanon!Bucky swears a lot), bad bromance, mentions of homosexual relations and factors thereof, mentions of adopted sibling incest, and some bashing of My Little Pony.

Started out as a funny little fanfiction, but turned into a "Bucky comes back from seemingly the dead" back-story plus porn and funnies. Also, Bucky is not the biggest fan of cartoons, especially those like My Little Pony.

&MyLittleBrony&

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes watched the two men watch some crappy, girly cartoon in complete fascination/horror/morbid curiosity. And it wasn't just the shirts the two men wore (each with a different character from the show flamboyantly displayed across their chests) either. It was just that, hell, grown men didn't watch Saturday morning cartoons as far as Bucky knew, nor did they proudly proclaim themselves to be "bronies" when Bucky and Steve disrupted their dysfunctional cuddling (Stark apparently didn't understand that sitting on someone's face was not the proper way to cuddle. Seriously, the pair needed to go to a cuddling workshop. He and Steve could open one and show them how it's done). It was just that all of it combined, plus the fact that the two were claiming that different characters from the show (_ponies_, for Christ's sake!) resembled members of the team. Bucky was _not_ Princess Luna, damnit! He was a man's man! Even if he cuddled with Steve and gave Steve massages and giggled when Steve feather light rubbed that spot along his ribs…he was still too manly to be a princess, goddamnit! Steve whispered into his ear, once taking notice of Bucky's stiff posture and pissed off glare as Stark merrily announced Bucky's pony character, that Tony and Bruce (Bucky couldn't help the involuntary tensing of his muscles at the sound of those names pouring off of Steve's tongue like poisoned honey. Thor be damned, he was not the jealous type!) didn't mean any harm and he shouldn't be upset because Steve was supposed to be Princess Celestia, at least according to Stark and Banner.

At least Steve as a princess would make sense to Bucky, as he could still remember his Steve as five foot nothing and ninety pounds soaking wet, with pretty, artist hands (long fingers that would brush feather soft against face as a teenage Steve held him as though he was made of glass) and beautiful facial features, with plump lips and wide eyes with long, dark lashes. Not that Steve was lacking at all now as far as Bucky was concerned, now that he was six foot two and over two hundred pounds dry with bronzed muscles and broad shoulders and still with those delicate, pianist hands (beautiful when gripping a gun or a piece of charcoal or Bucky's face) and delicate facial features, with full lips and big, blue eyes with long, dark lashes. Then again, Bucky could wax poetic for-fucking-ever about Steve Rogers and, though thinking about Steve put him in a better mood, did not make up for the fact that he was apparently like a girly pony princess! It was not okay, even if Steve was one too. The scowl remained on Bucky's face even as the marathon ended and the terrible twosome left to go nerd-gasm over some science experiment they had set up before going gaga for a fucking kid's show. Christ on a cracker, why couldn't he be boarding with real men, not ones that watched girly cartoons or swooned over villainous adoptive brothers or were gay married with a son (okay, he didn't mind Coulson or Barton or their son, Francis, who was the sweetest toddler Bucky ever met up close and personal, but _still_)? The manliest person, other than Bucky of course (and his man pride was slowly dwindling the more time he spent Steve. Come to think of it, he supposed that wasn't the worst way to lose his man card….), was Romanov, for fuck's sake! Not that a woman couldn't be manly, necessarily, just that it was disconcerting to a guy who used to live during the 1940s that a dame could be more of a man than a Norse god of thunder. And Bucky had no idea why he was trying to sound so politically correct in his own damn head. He blamed the Winter Soldier. Shit, he hated that guy, which was odd since the soldier technically _was_ him, just an evil, brainwashed version of him. Fuck, he hated the Soviets, what those bastards did to him, to his body, to his mind….

Before Bucky could continue that train of thought down that dark road, however, Steve hugged him tightly and nuzzled animal-like into his neck. Bucky caught on very quickly, after SHIELD retrieved him from wandering around in Siberia, which he had been doing since the fall of the Soviet Union, just a few months before, that Steve had missed him desperately, even more now that he had been unfrozen nearly seventy years into the future. The year and a half Steve had spent with the Avengers had been nice, but the guy needed someone, some tether, to ground him in reality, to prove that both this new life, as well as his life in the '40s, had been real and had happened. After waiting nearly a month in a remote SHIELD medical base, because Fury was a motherfucker to end all motherfuckers, Bucky was allowed into the Avengers Tower_. It was around dinnertime and Steve had been cooking sausages, the way he used to even though their neighbors had given them dirty looks for cooking naked as the day they were born, and Bucky had wrapped his arms around him and whispered into his pretty ear (odd, since whenever are ears pretty?), "Miss me, Steve?" _

_Steve had frozen still in his arms, all five inches taller than Bucky and not missing his real arm like Bucky did, and whispered like a prayer, "Bucky?"_

_Bucky couldn't help his voice, sounding like the tears he was just barely holding back all of a sudden, croaking, "It's really me, Steve; it's Bucky. I'm right here." Nothing else escaped Bucky's chapped lips as Steve turned around and_ embraced _him so tightly that Bucky couldn't really breathe, but he didn't care because his Steve was really here, in the flesh, and it wasn't a dream…._

_Steve pulled back a bit, grip not giving way, looking so afraid that Bucky might just slip away again, tears streaming down his face, matching Bucky's teary and so, so _happy _expression, and whispering, "You really are back, aren't you, Bucky?" Then crushing full, soft lips to Bucky's thinner, cracked pair, and, if Bucky had to choose a moment to die, he'd want to die in this moment, so happy that he could burst, like his broken and weary heart could finally be glued back together. Bucky pressed back just as fiercely, not letting this moment slip by, not like all those other moments, back in their old room in the orphanage, back in their old cramped Brooklyn apartment, back in their old tent in the middle of war-torn Europe where Bucky swore to himself that if he and Steve survived that nightmare, he would _finally _stop denying both him and Steve what they both truly _wanted. _Because, for once, what Bucky needed was what he wanted desperately, and that heady combination caused him to sob and moan at the same time into Steve's mouth as they kissed open mouth, with tongue, and God Bucky felt like he was burning up, like he was drowning, but what a way to go! _

_Of course, all good things have to come to an end, in this case when Steve and Bucky pulled back panting, gasping for oxygen they had deprived themselves of since neither could still figure out how to fuse their bodies together at the lips and breathe at the same time. A thin stream of saliva still connected to the two of them, and _that _was hot enough that Bucky couldn't pass up the fucking chance to press their lips together again, because he had_ wanted _this for so long, and now he was finally going to get it, as Steve pushed a strong leg between Bucky's thigh and the contact was enough to have Bucky fucking_ groan, _which Steve swallowed up as though it was water in a desert. The second, longer interruption came when an awkward cough broke through the pheromones Bucky and Steve were giving off in_ fucking _waves, man, and Bucky turned toward the sound to give off the fiercest, wolf-like glare to whoever dared to try to interrupt him and Steve. He had waited too _motherfucking _long, damnit! (To be completely honest, Bucky might have growled a bit too). Bucky bared his canines just a _little, _as the bespectacled man with curly hair and loose white shirt backed up and quietly went out of the kitchen. _

_Meanwhile, Bruce slid out of the kitchen/dining area slowly and carefully, hoping that the dark-haired man with the metal arm, who apparently had been trying to fuse his molecules together with Steve's, did not snap and try to kill him. That would not be good for anyone involved, since the other guy would probably get out and kill the new guy, and Steve would be unhappy and, worse,_ disappointed, _which was seriously Captain America's secret weapon. The man could induce gut-wrenching guilt quicker than the other guy could make army recruits piss themselves. Bruce strolled as calmly as he could back into the living room, when he was immediately asked if he was okay and what was wrong and did Steve tell him that they were going to eat healthy tonight (fate worse than death,_ of course_)? Bruce sometimes couldn't help but wish that Tony Stark was not so good at reading his emotions. Bruce was quiet and reserved, closed off to most, except Tony, who could make him laugh and smile like before the Accident (which deserves capitalization, since the Accident fucked up his life so thoroughly), and the other guy liked him, and, hell,_ Bruce _even liked the guy, who didn't care if he made him angry and_ trusted _him so completely that it made Bruce's head confused and his heart_ hurt, _because he had done nothing to deserve that kind of trust. But then Tony invaded his personal space to hang off of him and ramble on and on about the travesties Steve could wreak if Agent Coulson and Legolas (okay, Bruce had to admit, the nickname was catchy, though _he _would never call Barton that to his face. Self-preservation instincts were still there, even though Hawkeye couldn't actually _kill _him, not with the other guy around) convinced the super soldier to cook food that was green and not completely covered in grease. The food was going to catch up with Tony one day, but, though Bruce would deny it out loud, the man was cute as hell when he whined and pouted like he was doing now. Bruce assured Tony that Steve was cooking a Heart Attack Special, with plenty of greasy sausage, which caused Tony to beam and made Bruce feel warmth somewhere in the vicinity of his heart (not good, Tony was just a friend, one who made him smile and laugh and feeling so, so_ fucking _happy…goddamnit, he was_ so _screwed). Of course, this prompted Tony to ask what the hell caused Bruce to become so weirded out earlier, because the man was used to Steve cooking naked as a jaybird, so what else happened?_

_Bruce sighed and explained. Five minutes later, Tony and a reluctant Bruce snuck back into the kitchen/dining room to spy on Steve and the UFSG (unidentified_ fucking _sexy guy). Things had, um,_ progressed _from there, so that the apron that kept the world from admiring his larger-than-even-_his_-proportions junk was conspicuously missing, as was the UFSG's clothes. Man, those two were going_ fucking _at it, like a couple of horny animals on a Discovery Channel documentary. It was only when Tony caught their captain's husky whispers of "Bucky, _please_" that things clicked in his head. An old, ahem_, friend _of Cap's had come to visit, one that supposedly died in 1943. Small, really_ goddamn _weird world, and now he had to drag himself and Bruce away from this scene of _glorious _debauchery, since, if Bruce's explanation from earlier had some truth to it, Sergeant Barnes would rip off his dick if he saw him watching him getting it on with Captain Steve "Motherfucking America, Bitches" Rogers (as Tony would call Cap in his head). And since his dick was Tony's favorite part of his anatomy and his suit was back in a briefcase in the living room, he was going to vanish ninja-style back to the living room with Bruce in tow. Just that, as Tony turned to drag Bruce back to their bachelor pad/Avengers living room/substitute man cave, he saw the way his nerdy scientist BFF (yes, Bruce was totally his BFF, because he was manly enough that it was not gay at all. Seriously) stared at Steve and his old, really fucking_ randy _friend with a stare that should have caused at least a couple of holes to appear on the old best friends/fuck buddies/possibly old lovers maybe. Tony then made the mistake of shifting his gaze downward and, _well_, looks like Bruce was not asexual after all. And that if Tony was at least slightly unsure if he might like to do a little hanky panky with his BFF at some point, well, the rather _large _friend in Bruce's pants convinced him that, no, he really,_ really _should at some point, because_, damn, _hung like a fucking _horse _much, Brucie? He might even bottom for the man, because Tony had experimented a bit at MIT, and the stretch would be_ fucking _delicious, he knew deep down in his very soul. Just as his mind was beginning to lose blood flow in favor of his dick, Coulson, Legolas, and Romanov had to ruin it all,_ damnit, _though the stunned, Bambi-just-watched-his-mother-get-shot-by-some-redneck-hunter look on Agent Philip J. Coulson's face was fucking priceless. Tony desperately hoped that this was on tape, and not just for the free porn and many, _many_ angles of Bruce's junk._

_Agent Coulson, meanwhile, was completely torn between having a heart attack and being rock hard (even he could not deny the power of the pheromones that Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were giving off). Fortunately, his agent training kicked in after only a brief moment (though Agent Barton's did not, as evidenced by the glazed look and growing_ problem _in his husband's pants, meaning that the two would be training again, lots and lots of training with minimal clothing…Focus, Coulson, focus) and he cleared his throat to get Captain America and Winter Soldier's attentions. He might have also kicked Tony a bit to snap the man out of the daze he had sunk into (Goddamnit, they all needed to get laid soon. Don't give him that look; he was a man, fuck it all). Agent Romanov, noticing that Agent Coulson was not getting through to the two older men in the middle of having sex, ordered calmly, "Sergeant Barnes, cease and desist your attempts to fornicate with Captain Rogers. And, Stark, get your ass of the floor; Agent Coulson did not kick you that hard."_

_Once Romanov had uttered those words, the lust cleared out of the air. Steve turned the color of cherry, and Natasha was concerned for a moment whether or not the blond man would have an aneurysm, while Barnes glared at Natasha heatedly as the man reluctantly put his clothes back on. She smirked back at the glaring man, with whom she'd shared an excellent acquaintanceship with back in Russia. Bruce shuffled behind Stark, trying to hide what even Natasha considered an impressive erection, as Tony was melodramatically clutching his crotch (Natasha officially loved her superior even more now). Agent Coulson was now barking orders to herd the pack of idiotic men into the comm.s room to debrief why the Winter Soldier was currently at Stark Tower and not, well, dead. _

After that, things went back to as normal as it could be for the Avengers plus Bucky, once all the members of the team got acquainted with the old Winter Soldier and his, er, _charming _demeanor. The look on Thor's face when Bucky let the god know exactly what he thought about Thor's constant casual touching of Steve was priceless.

"Buck, you still mad about earlier," Steve whispered into his lover's ear as he demonstrated his cuddle-induced flexibility in _all_ the right ways in Bucky's humble (_damn_ straight!) opinion. Since it was now apparent that Steve's full attention was not on Bucky, the old Winter Soldier decided to remedy the situation. Besides, if he was a glittery, gay pony, then Steve was also an equally glittery, gay pony, and Bucky was going to fucking _ride_ that glittery, gay pony all night long.

Meanwhile, Natasha Romanov shook her head as she ninja-stalked out of the room. _Honestly_, she had dealt with manlier beefcakes at a fashion designer's convention in San Francisco. Whatever, more time for her with the lovely Miss Darcy; seriously, did the men around here think they were the only ones getting laid?

&MyLittleBrony&

And that's a wrap.


End file.
